I'm Sorry, I Love You
by TheHaremshipper
Summary: Anzu, suffering from unrequited love for those who already have each other, slips into a depression. Eventually, she manages to escape it-just to fall in love with them all over again. It takes courage to know when to fight, and even more to know when to give in. Established Yuumeishipping, eventual Yuumeishipping with Anzu. Some mildly disturbing content. Slow burn.
1. Breaking The Habit

Hi! This will be my second story for this section.

**If you're confused about the pairing, it's this-**

**Established: Yuumeishipping **

**Eventual: This pairing has no name, but it's Yuumeishipping with Anzu**

**Yes, this is PRO Anzu. An extreme majority of the story is from her point of view as well. No like, no read.**

**There is an OC in this, but she's mainly just there for support. She has a not really/slightly important role, and she won't interact with much of anyone besides Anzu. She's just there to help her along so that they can eventually all get together. Like, she's there for realizations and such. She's not paired with anyone, so don't get your panties/boxers in a twist. She's in here a lot for the first few chappies, but you'll understand why when/if you read the story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park.**

* * *

I'm Sorry, I Love You

* * *

Chapter 1: Breaking the Habit

_Clutching my cure  
I tightly lock the door  
I try to catch my breath again  
I hurt much more  
Than anytime before  
I had no options left again_

~Linkin Park

* * *

Mazaki Anzu was a happy go lucky, cheery girl.

Mazaki Anzu was the first friend of one Mouto Yugi, co King of Games.

Mazaki Anzu was known for her devotion to friendship, and in turn, her friends.

But, there were things no one knew about Mazaki Anzu.

Mazaki Anzu was in love with six men.

Mazaki Anzu was hiding her true self behind a mask every day.

Mazaki Anzu was _broken._

And that, my friends, is where our story begins…

* * *

Anzu sat in the bay window in her room, forehead resting idly against the glass. Bright blue eyes, once sparkling with life, had dulled and glazed-a sad testament of their previous luster.

She sighed, pale lids sliding shut over the blue. She hadn't always been like this. She'd been happy, once.

Those days, she knew, were long over now, though.

It had started out wonderfully. She'd met Yugi, become his friend with Jou and Honda, and they'd gone and kicked some bad guy ass. But then Yugi's other personality had appeared, Yami, and things had gotten more complicated.

During Duelist Kingdom, Anzu had started the first in what would become a chain of events leading up to how she was now.

She'd fallen in love with Mouto Yugi.

Simple, right?

No.

Because then the second event had come along.

Falling in love with Yami.

Twisted, right? How could she fall in love with Yugi, and Yami? Especially when they both inhabited the same body?

But it only gets worse from there.

Because then, Ryou had come along.

And through him she met Bakura.

Then Battle City brought Malik and Marik.

And suddenly, Anzu found herself knee deep in a situation that for the life of her she didn't know how to get out of.

When Yugi and Yami had dueled and Yugi won, Yami ended up deciding to stay-and the gods granted he, Bakura, and Marik bodies so that they may live the lives that were stolen from them. Anzu had repressed her feelings for all six as best she could, and had succeeded.

Until they started coupling off, that is.

Yami and Yugi had gotten together just days after Yami got his body.

Marik and Malik followed not long after, then Ryou and Bakura.

Watching them, happy with each other, had hurt her.

Having Yugi confide in her his happiness at having Yami with him had hurt her.

Seeing Marik, Malik, Bakura, and Ryou become a four person couple, adding Yami and Yugi later on as well to make it six, had _hurt her._

It hurt so incredibly much.

All she'd ever done was love them-and look where it had gotten her.

Watching the six of them, happy together.

Happy without her.

And knowing that no matter how much she prayed, no matter how much she acted like everything was normal and hung out with them, there would never be room for her.

They already had each other.

Mazaki Anzu let out a shuddering sigh, and pulled away from the glass. Opening her eyes, she stared at her reflection. Pale skin, lips pulled into a frown, eyes staring emptily back…

She blinked, and the image was replaced with that of a smiling sixteen year old, eyes glittering with a calm happiness.

The mask was in place.

And it would remain there, until the day she could no longer force it into place, and the world would see what had become of Mazaki Anzu.

Anzu's thumb traced over the thin scars that marred her arms.

A day that would soon be coming.

* * *

"Hey Anzu!"

Anzu turned around on the sidewalk, finding Yugi, Yami, Ryou, and Bakura not too far behind. She paused in her step, waiting for the four to catch up to her.

"Hello, Yugi," she giggled. "How are you four today?"

"I'm good," Yugi smiled, leaning into Yami's side.

"Fantastic, really," Ryou grinned softly.

Yami snorted. "I'd be better if the Tomb Robber dropped at my feet admitting defeat for once."

Bakura tsked, "Watch your mouth, Pharaoh, or I'll do it for you."

The former pharaoh smirked. "Promise?"

A lecherous light entered the dark brown eyes of the former thief, and his next smirk showed his abnormally sharp canines. "Is that a challenge?"

"It's whatever you want it to be, thief."

Anzu fell back behind the group, watching them in their usual routine. It wasn't all that shocking to see them like this. Bakura and Yami would bicker, eventually leading to a make-out session, as Ryou and Yugi watched amusedly, sending each other small, secretive glances.

The group rounded the corner, Malik and Marik waiting for them there.

"Heeeeey!" Malik called, hands waving frantically over his head at them.

"Malik!" Ryou laughed as said Egyptian glomped the whitenette.

"Morning, Ishtar," Bakura intoned drawlingly at Marik.

The Tomb Keeper smirked, wrapping his arm about the former King of Thieves' waist. "You seem happy to see me, Baku-Baku."

Bakura rolled his eyes at the nickname. "Ass."

"Why yes, it is rather pretty, isn't it?" Marik acted as though he were checking out Yugi's backside, head tilted and fingers stroking his chin.

Yugi 'eeped' and hid behind his yami.

"Good morning, Anzu," Malik greeted, while Marik grunted out her last name with a nod.

She gave them her best false smile, "Morning, boys."

Yugi frowned briefly in her direction. "Anzu? You okay?"

She blinked, acting the part of the dimwitted cheerleader so many thought her to be. "Why wouldn't I be, Yugi?"

His brow furrowed, and he looked over her once more, before shrugging. "No reason."

She giggled cutely, as expected of her, and skipped ahead. "Come on, you lazies! We'll be late!"

As they trailed along after her, laughing and smiling, none of them noticed the way her right hand trailed to her left side, tracing an invisible pattern on her other forearm through the cloth.

* * *

Lunch was Hell.

Of course, when you were stuck watching the ones you love mingle and give each other _those_ looks, it was impossible for it to be anything else.

Her eyes scanned the boys who sat on all sides of her, briefly observing Kaiba and Jou as they had another sexual tension-fueled argument, the azure color glazed and bland.

"Malik!" Ryou giggled, playfully shoving the Egyptian boy that was attempting to nip at his neck. "Stop it!"

Pain shot across her mind.

Something told her it was time to get out of there.

Jumping up, she aimed the usual smile and a quick excuse at Yugi, who gave a confused look in return as she rushed from the cafeteria. Her goal was the girl's bathroom one floor up, the one no one went to anymore since half the stall doors were hanging on one hinge and the walls were covered in nonsensical graffiti.

The far stall was the only one that had a lock and both hinges, so naturally that was her choice for the task in mind. Closing the toilet lid as she slid the lock in place, Anzu searched through the inner pockets of her uniform for the required tool. The neon yellow plastic container of razors had at one time been her fathers, until he'd decided to divorce her mother for the first rich bitch to come along.

Sliding the top off the case, she used her thumb on the flat side of the blade to slide one out from the others. Placing the leftovers off to the side on the toilet paper dispenser, she rolled up her jacket cuffs to bare her left forearm and wrist. Carefully, she positioned the sharp corner of the razor above the pale skin in the middle of her wrist. She didn't like using the straight blade, too afraid that she would put too much pressure on one spot and would nick a vein. Using the corner was the perfect solution, allowing her to be more precise with her cuts, even if it took longer to do.

In her head, images clamored in an explosion of anxiety and inadequacy. Malik nipping Ryou's neck was frequently shown, as well as the scenes from this morning. Their laughter, their smiles, their _love,_ played a broken record in her mind.

_Why would they want you?_ her mind cruelly whispered. _You're just the cheerleader. Always there for support. How selfish of you to believe that you deserved even an ounce of their love. Why give any of it to you, Anzu? Why, when they can give it to each other? You're sole purpose is to make _them_ happy, by whatever means are necessary. You know that. You've _always _known that. You're the background character designed to further progress their goals. Your dreams, your feelings…_

_Are meaningless._

She screamed for her subconscious to shut up, pressing the tip of the razor into the tender skin so that a drop of red beaded on the surface. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation, a sort of quasi-excitement building in her abdomen. The sharp sting as she drew the blade numbed her brain into silence, redirecting her pain to something more manageable. A soft exhale blew from her lips as her shoulders slumped, bliss loosening her body into that pleasurable sensation reminiscent of the feeling you got while resting after doing something strenuous.

Lazily, she watched blood pool from the thin cut, sliding down her arm to drip to the floor. The first time she'd seen her own blood had been frightening, not knowing how long the cut was supposed to bleed or if it would even stop, worrying she'd gone too deep. Her technique had gotten better since then, and she'd begun to see a strange sort of beauty in the act. Almost like watching a bright red flower bloom to life in a field of unblemished snow.

Smiling now that the depression on her mind had been lifted, she ripped a few squares of tissue paper from the dispenser and wiped away the blood on her arm and the floor as the wound began to clot and cut the flow. She winced a little as small stings tingled in her nerves with each movement of the wrist. While making the cut hurt, after doing so the wound was always numb for a few minutes until clotting, at which point the sting set in. But a few stings from the cuts-old and new, of which there were now three cuts on the left and two on the right in total that had been deep enough to leave noticeable scars-was well worth the mental relief she gained in return.

Rolling the sleeves back in place, she opened the door and emerged in the middle of stuffing the razors back into her bag.

"You know, I never knew Mazaki Anzu to be the cutting type."

Anzu's head whipped around so fast the vertebrae popped, finding a girl she knew to be in her class, but had never actually spoken to. Kyoko Sorano, loner extraordinaire, leaned against the paper towel dispenser, arms crossed and head cocked. A small smile upturned purple painted lips knowingly; thickly lined dark cinnamon eyes glinted and crinkled predatorily. As if the dark makeup wasn't enough to set Anzu off to exactly what group this girl ran with, the earrings of dangling skeletons, thick, long purple skull and crossbones stockings and black checkered converse shoes sealed the deal.

Sorano waved a fingerless black and purple gloved hand airily, the cheap lights in the bathroom glistening off the shiny coat of black on her nails. "Of course," she pushed away from the dispenser, stalking closer to Anzu with that lazy predator's look, "I don't really know Mazaki Anzu, do I?"

"Was there something you wanted, Kyoko-san?" Anzu asked hurriedly, if not a bit icily as well.

Sorano blinked rapidly, brows rising on her forehead in amusement. "Not really, Mazaki-san. I'm just _so_ curious…"

"It's none of your business," Anzu snapped.

Sorano nodded agreeably. "Indeed, it isn't. But I simply must confirm my suspicions. After all, you are doing this to yourself because of them, aren't you?"

Anzu's muscles stiffened, her mouth on the defense before her brain knew what it was doing. "Them? Who's them?"

Sorano smiled in a way that was reminiscent of the cat that got the cream. "Why, _them_, obviously. Yami, Marik, Ryou, Bakura, Yugi, Malik…"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She brushed past the girl in an attempt to leave, but her next words stopped Anzu dead in her tracks.

"Oh, but I think you do. Really, I'm surprised I'm the only one who noticed just how _in love with them_ you really are."

The azure eyed girl spun on her heel, glaring as fiercely as she could. "I'm not in love with them." She could almost taste ash on her tongue after speaking such a blasphemous lie.

Sorano's eyes flashed downwards for a brief second, before coming back up and meeting Anzu's glare once more-her dark cinnamon browns taking on an oddly soft look. "Says the girl bleeding through her sleeve for them," she whispered.

Anzu gasped, pulling her arm up and finding that her blood had indeed seeped through the dark material. Rushing to a sink, she grappled with the faucet handle and plunged her wrist beneath the lukewarm water after rolling her sleeve. In the mirror, she saw Sorano sigh and reach for a black messenger bag Anzu hadn't previously noticed lying beneath the paper towel dispenser. The ravenette rummaged for a second, pulling out a white plastic container two inches thick, three inches wide, two and a half inches long.

She approached Anzu with the box, holding her hand out expectantly. "Give me your wrist."

Anzu hesitated, but the stern look in the other female's gaze made her look down and hand it over. Surprisingly gently, Sorano cradled Anzu's wrist in one hand while the other flipped open the white box-revealing it to be a first aid kit. Swiftly and efficiently, Sorano rubbed Neosporin on the cut and covered it with a layer of gauze held down by medical tape.

Anzu was quiet during the procedure, wincing every so often, not meeting the other girl's eyes. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed. She didn't like showing the scars on her arms to someone-it made her feel self-conscious. It made her feel pathetic. It made her feel…weak.

"You're not weak."

Anzu's head snapped up, shocked. "Wh-what?"  
Sorano barely glanced up before focusing on her newest task, scrubbing the blood from Anzu's uniform sleeve with Tide To Go and a paper towel. "I said you're not weak. So stop thinking it."

"How did you…?"  
"You're pretty easy for me to read." She finished her task, rolling Anzu's sleeve back into place and tossing the paper towel into the waste basket. "I mean, I've studied you enough to understand your thoughts even with the mask on, so it's like taking candy from a baby when it's off."

Anzu's voice when she spoke was awed. "You've…been studying me?"

Sorano rolled her eyes, putting her supplies away and stuffing them in her bag. "Of course I have. I mean, here was Mazaki Anzu-who rumors said could only be the happiest, kindest, most supportive person alive-wearing what was possibly _the fakest_ smile I've ever seen." She sat on the edge of one of the sinks, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Anzu. "Wouldn't you be curious too?"

Anzu bit her lip. "How did you know to come here?"

Sorano tapped a black painted finger to her chin, looking at the ceiling contemplatively. "Well, at this point I imagine that cutting has become a habit for you, right? You do it whenever the…pain, I suppose…becomes too much?" When Anzu nodded, she continued. "I knew that you favored this bathroom for your activities because I've seen you slip in here quite a few times. Not to mention that it's perfect for that sort of thing-secluded, unused, practically abandoned-so there was less risk of getting caught. With the display Ryou and Malik were putting on in the lunch room, it was really just a matter of watching and waiting for you to escape. After all-habits become patterns, and patterns are traceable."

Anzu shifted uncomfortably. "You make me sound like an animal or science experiment," she muttered.

Sorano's eyes flickered down, the dazed expression gone and replaced with stony vigilance. "That's not it at all, Anzu," she whispered, soft tones in sharp contrast with her hard face. "Trust me. I'd _never_ undermine, or belittle this. Your situation…isn't anything I could ever find the ability to brush aside as unimportant."

Anzu was momentarily stunned at the girl's seriousness, feeling an odd connection in the way Sorano looked at her. In that moment she felt that Sorano _understood_. Really, understood. In ways that Anzu knew no one else had. The girl had seen through her _mask_, for Kami's sake; the one she'd been wearing for so long she'd almost forgotten what it was like to walk around without it.

Before Anzu could think to reply to Sorano's declaration, another question was being asked of her. "Anzu…are you, have you ever been, suicidal?"

She jolted, as though an electric shock had poured through her system, finding her vocal cords momentarily out of commission as she searched for an answer. Had she been suicidal? Is that what this was? She scanned her memories in rapid succession. There had been times…times when she'd wanted to just slip away. Times when she'd wanted to just _run_, she didn't know where, but to just be anywhere but here.

Times when, just as she went to sleep, she prayed silently that she might not wake up.

Sorano's gaze scanned Anzu's face as she thought, and her eyes narrowed slightly, a knowing look settling in them as her lips pursed. "I thought so."

Sighing, Sorano stepped lightly to the floor, her tall five ten frame settling a foot from Anzu. She grabbed the trembling girl's upper arm, pulling her gently into her embrace. Placing her chin on top of Anzu's head, she nuzzled the broken girl affectionately. "It's okay, Anzu. It's okay to cry-it's okay to hurt."

Anzu's shoulder slumped, relief coursing through her veins. What…? What was this? Why did she feel so safe? Granted, it was a small safety, extremely fragile, but it was there nonetheless.

"We're kindred spirits, Anzu," Sorano answered her unspoken question.

Anzu started, nibbling her lip. How did she _do_ that?

Placing that thought aside for later, Anzu hesitantly hugged the other girl, forehead resting on her shoulder. Her breathing shallowed, pinpricks coming to her eyes. Her chest clenched in the strangest of ways, muscles tightening in her back and shoulders. Her throat constricted, a choked sound gurgling forth.

For a moment Anzu didn't know what was happening to her. This burst of activity seemed foreign, like a task her body had almost forgotten how to perform. It was only when the first tear slipped from her right eye, feeling so warm on her cheek before soaking into the material of Sorano's jacket that she realized she was crying.

The revelation came as a surprise to Anzu. It had been so very long since she'd let herself cry. She was used to cutting, the blood replacing the tears, that the very idea that she _could_ still cry was momentous.

"Good," Sorano soothed, running a hand down Anzu's back comfortingly. "That's it. Let it out. It's okay, Anzu."

Anzu let herself give into the pain that swelled forth, clinging to Sorano like a lifeline. She reveled in it, _basked _in it, letting it grow and overwhelm her, until it overflowed and the only place it could escape was through the gasps from her lips and tears from her eyes.

Her body shook with the force of her sobs, they were so strong. She knew that the runny, clear snot associated with crying was clogging her nose and probably getting on Sorano's jacket, but the girl didn't seem to care and Anzu couldn't bring herself to pull away yet.

It took twenty minutes, but Anzu's body stopped shaking, her tears running down to tiny sniffles every few seconds instead of full blown sobs. Pulling away, Anzu wiped at her eyes with the heels of her palms, ridding herself of the stray tears that wished to slip out. When she looked up, Sorano was handing her tissues she must have procured from that bag of hers, and she took them, smiling gratefully.

After blowing her nose and cleaning herself up a bit, she looked into the mirror and winced. Her eyes were all puffy, nose a bright fire engine red, skin blotchy and covered in salty tear tracks. "Ugh, I look terrible." Even her voice sounded bad-it was hoarse and strained.

"No one looks good after a meltdown, sister," Sorano replied sympathetically, patting her back.

Vaguely, Anzu wondered how it was they'd suddenly become close enough for Sorano to call her 'sister' so familiarly, and figured it must have been when she made the decision to have a breakdown on her shoulder. Anzu almost chuckled, finding she oddly didn't mind the term of endearment from the girl she barely knew.

"…thank you," Anzu mumbled, a small blush on her cheeks.

Sorano smiled, and Anzu was bemused to note that the standoffish, cold, loner she'd always believed was Kyoko Sorano was so different in person. "It's no problem. Like I said, we're kindred spirits."

Anzu grinned slightly. After smiling falsely for so long, anything genuine felt…weird and out of place on her face.

Sorano laughed humorlessly through her nose at the attempt, shaking her head in a manner that was almost sad. "Yeah. Well, now I guess it's time we move onto the next step."

Anzu tilted her head curiously. "What are you talking about?"

Sorano gave her a devious smirk, reaching into that bag of hers and pulling out what appeared to be a leather bound black journal and a dark blue gel pen. Unceremoniously, she thrust the items into Anzu's arms.

Blinking, Anzu looked down at the items. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

"You're going to write in that from now on every time you get the urge to cut," she replied, crossing her arms. "Hopefully this way we can keep the urge to a minimum and nip this thing in the bud before it gets out of hand."

Anzu's lip was going to bleed soon if she kept chewing on it. "Why do you care so much? Why…why are you even doing this?"

Sorano's eyes glazed over, and for a moment she stared at Anzu blankly. In that moment, the girl looked so empty, so dead, that a shiver of fear shot up Anzu's spine. In the next moment, it was gone, and Sorano had that calm, knowing look back that Anzu was used to. "I'm sure that someday, I'll tell you Anzu. But for now, know this-I am now officially your best gal friend. And together, we can do this."

Anzu clucked her tongue, and outside the bathroom the bell could be heard ringing for students to head to their classes. As the two left, shouldering their bags, Anzu asked one final question. "And what is it, exactly, that we're doing?"

Sorano smirked, winking at her in assurance. "Breaking the habit, of course."

* * *

_I don't know how I got this way  
I'll never be alright  
So I'm breaking the habit  
I'm breaking the habit  
I'm breaking the habit tonight_

~Linkin Park

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review, and tell me your opinion!**


	2. The Diary

**Hi! Second chapter here, hope you like...this pairing is a doozie, (I have no idea how that is spelled.) I'll admit. Shorter than the first, but the next one's looking to be longer. **

**Disclaimer: No own Yu-Gi-Oh or Hollywood Undead**

* * *

Chapter 2: The Diary

_And I wanna go back to the start,  
back where we started from.  
And I know it's been so long.  
I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong all along._

~Hollywood Undead

* * *

Anzu stared blankly at her ceiling fan, her hair swaying just the slightest bit from the air current it created. Her bed covers strewn haphazardly over her hips, hand resting atop the clock whose alarm she'd just turned off, she couldn't find the will in herself to get up. All the energy she normally had in the mornings seemed to have evaporated from her very muscles—she barely had the strength to keep her lids open.

With a deep sigh, she forced her arm to search the side table for her cell phone, sending her mother a text that she was sick and to call her off school. Less than a minute later, she received the reply.

_K._

With only one eye peeked open, she almost snorted as she read the letter. It seemed that her mother was so busy at that job of hers—which kept her out at all hours and made the chances of seeing her slim to none every week—that she didn't even have the time spell out the word 'okay' to her supposedly sick daughter.

Whatever. Anzu's hand collapsed boneless to the mattress, phone slipping through her fingers and clattering over the edge of the bed to the floor. Humming in content, Anzu turned her head to the side, enjoying the feel of the fan blowing air across the bare skin revealed by her shorts-tank top pajama set. Sleep was good, she decided. When she slept, her problems all seemed to disappear. Her thoughts became incoherent babble that wouldn't hurt her anymore, and she'd never have to see their faces...

Darkness clouding her vision behind her eyelids, Anzu slipped quickly and peacefully into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Anzu only woke up later when a knock on her door forced her to stir. Lolling her head to the other side, she yawned with half-lidded eyes, not sure if she wanted to answer or not.

When the knocking turned into full blown pounding, she gave up playing ignorant and pulled herself up with exhausted, fatigued motions. She felt strangely heavy, and watched the blank wall across from her for a good thirty seconds before continuing into the front room. Unlocking it, she sighed and fixed up her mask, and opened the door.

Kyoko Sorano glared at her from over the threshold, arms crossed and eyes menacing. "So, this is what you decided to skip school for?" she murmured. "Sleep? Lazing about?"

Anzu smiled widely. "Hello, Kyoko-san. What brings you here?"

Sorano stiffened, eyes flashing as her teeth gnashed together with a loud click. "Mazaki Anzu," she ground out, "step aside and let me in this instant."  
Not wanting to argue, Anzu stepped aside and allowed Sorano to enter the house, closing the door and lounging herself on the velvet cushions of the tan couch in the middle of the living room. Sorano stood in front of her across the coffee table, arms taking their previous crossed position once more.

"So," her classmate began, "are you going to explain? Just didn't feel like coming today? Felt like sleeping?"

Anzu flinched at the girl's tone, her mask unconsciously beginning to slip at the edges. "I…I don't know….I just didn't…"

"Didn't what," Sorano let her bag slip from her shoulder, hitting the ground with a solid thunk, "set your alarm? Didn't think that someone would notice your absence?"

Anzu clenched her hands, smile faltering a little at the edges. "No! No. I, I mean…"

"What, Anzu?" Sorano came around the table, seating herself next to the other girl. "What do you mean?"

Exhaling softly, Anzu rubbed her hand along her face. When she pulled it away, it was as though she'd removed the mask with it—showing just how exhausted she was, physically and mentally.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I was just so tired. I didn't have the strength…"

Smiling in an oddly maternal way, Sorano pat the girl's shoulder. "I know, I know. Sorry I got uptight, there. I just needed you to take the damn mask off." Scooting closer, she pulled Anzu's head onto her shoulder, and began to run her fingers gently over the strands. "It's okay, Anzu. The exhaustion is your mind shutting down your emotional output. You've been loading it up with so much pain that it's decided to take a break."

Part of Anzu registered what she was saying, but the rest didn't care and just wanted to keep laying there doing nothing. "And?"  
Sorano ruffled the girl's hair a bit. "We've got to get your head out of this stupor, first off. Do you like any particular books? Or movies?"

Anzu paused, forcing effort into thinking over her reply. "…Twilight. I read it, the whole series, a few years back. It was pretty good…and I've seen the movies."

Sorano smiled giddily. "Yeah! I liked the series too, but I got into it before it became so, erm, popular. I saw the movies, and the books are so very much better." She let out a gusty, almost sarcastic sigh. "I hate that it's become such a craze—the mindless fangirls that don't bother to read the books are supremely annoying. The books have much more character development than the movies. They took away the enjoyment of liking the series."  
Anzu blinked leisurely. She'd never heard Sorano rant before. "I suppose."  
Sorano clicked her tongue agitatedly, sighing gustily. "I guess today's going to be all about distraction and recuperation." She nudged Anzu with her elbow. "Go get that journal and pen I gave you."

Closing her eyes, Anzu breathed deeply before standing and opting to do as Sorano said. She really didn't feel like expending the energy that arguing would take.

Returning a few minutes later with the item in hand, Anzu placed it on the coffee table and curled back up on the couch. Sorano picked it up and flipped it open, rolling her eyes. "You didn't even write in it," she grumbled.

Anzu shrugged. "Didn't want to."

Huffing, Sorano shoved it into Anzu's hands with the pen. "Well, perhaps now you should start."

Blinking, Anzu stared dispassionately at the journal. She didn't want to write. She wanted to sleep…

As though sensing what Anzu was thinking, Sorano turned Anzu's face to look at her. "Do you want help, or not?"

Anzu ran a finger down the journal's spine, eyes sliding half shut as a reluctant, sad smile tugged her lips up fractionally. "I…don't want to be like this," she admitted quietly.

Patting Anzu's shoulder, Sorano nodded. "So, write. Just let me know when you're done, okay? And don't you dare wimp out—I don't want to have skipped my last five classes for no reason."

Nodding, Anzu uncapped the dark blue gel pen, laying the book open on her lap to the first page. Nibbling her lip unsurely for a second, the pen hovered over the page before she finally began to write.

'_My name is Mazaki Anzu._

_'And I'm sick.'_

* * *

A solid _thunk _on the coffee table made Sorano look up from the book she'd been reading, finding Anzu had finished writing and was now massaging her fingers gently. Sorano picked up the book, leafing through at all the pages without actually reading them. The girl had filled a good fifteen pages with medium sized print, her words cramped but neat. Setting it down, she checked the time on her cell, whistling when she realized Anzu'd been writing for at least an hour and a half, maybe two hours. It was noon now.

Anzu's fingers ached like they never had before, her wrists on the verge of cramping. Yet she noticed that while her hands hurt, her heart felt oddly light, her mind clearer, and her body less fatigued. If she was honest with herself, she'd say she actually felt _good._

"What now?" she whispered, looking up from beneath her lashes at Sorano.

The other girl smiled, setting the book on the table. "Well, first we're going to give you some nice brain food. We're going to watch some movie that I think you'll like, mostly to pass time, but also to get your brain flowing."

Settling back into one arm of the couch, Anzu raised a brow as Sorano searched her bag and pulled out a DVD to put in the player. When she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, remote in hand, Anzu felt the need to ask, "What are we watching?"

With a devious grin, Sorano lowered her lids to half-mast. "Have you ever heard of _Labyrinth_?"

"…_Pan's Labyrinth?_"  
Sorano rolled her eyes. "No, just _Labyrinth._"

"No," Anzu shrugged, "I can't say I have."

"Oooh," Sorano mewled gleefully, "are you in for a treat."

* * *

The rest of the day was spent watching movies until Sorano's stomach growled around five, obviously longing for sustenance. Grinning sheepishly, she bid Anzu farewell and exited her home, making Anzu swear to try writing whenever the familiar urge descended.

Anzu promised, half-lying—which she believed Sorano picked up on, if the look the girl had given her before leaving was anything to go by—and took a perch on the arm of the couch.

Anzu bit her lip as the silence weighed down on the room, seeming to pulse in the air. All at once, Anzu was suddenly tired. She moved to lay out across the couch, the cushions cradling all her sore muscles. Gods, it felt good.

Lids drooping, Anzu fell into a light nap, conscious slipping into that dullish haze just short of deep sleep. It wasn't until half an hour later that she awoke to a vague tapping on her door.

Shaking off the fog of sleep, Anzu sighed before forcing herself to answer the door. She soon wished she hadn't.

Malik and Marik stopped whispering to each other the moment she opened the door, turning their nearly identical lavender eyes on her.

"Ah, Anzu," Malik smiled, "hey. We were just bringing over the homework you missed."

Anzu blinked, mask slipping into place with practiced ease as she gave a close-eyed smile. "Thanks, but you didn't have to do that! I would have been fine getting it tomorrow!"

Malik's smiled dipped at one corner. "Yeah, well…"

"It was on our way, Mazaki," Marik droned, "we walk right by you on our route home."

"Oh," she said understandingly, smile pulling tighter. Unconsciously, she reached over to rub her wrist and nearly jolted when instead of the usual cloth covering, she brushed bare skin. She'd forgotten that she hadn't bothered changing out of her shorts/tank top, so the marks on her arms were exposed to the open air.

Shit shit _shit._

Panic churning her stomach, she gave a brief run over the Egyptians with her eyes, noting that they hadn't noticed yet. This, however, was only because she'd unconsciously had her wrists facing away from them thus far.

Mind swirling, she blurted, "Oh! I just remembered, I…forgot something in the kitchen! I'll be right back!"

She nearly slammed the door in her haste to provide a shield for her wrists from prying eyes. Running to her room, she snatched up two thick arm bands that served as stylish wrist cuffs, each about three inches long. Snapping them in place, she felt herself calm as the gashes were hidden.

When she reopened the door just moments later, it was with her mask set firmly and easily over her features like a second skin. "Sorry about that!"

Malik smiled, and her heart hurt. "It's no problem, you got to your…whatever it is you were making, in time, right?"

For a moment Anzu didn't know what they were talking about, but then her memory sparked and she closed her eyes while nodding. "Yeah, I got it." She reached out, taking the papers from Malik's grip. "Thanks again, by the way. I appreciate it."

Malik laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "It was no problem."

A few pleasant formalities later, Anzu shut the door—with considerably less force this time—and slowly sank to her haunches. Forehead against the door, Anzu closed her eyes as her smile dropped.

That had been close.

That had been far, far too close.

Pulling back from the door, Anzu stared down at her hands. She loved them.

_"Says the girl bleeding through her sleeve for them," Sorano whispered._

Her hands fisted on her knees. She didn't want to. Not anymore. Not if it meant hurting herself just to be near them. She wanted to go back; back to when she didn't love them.

_"Do you want help, or not?"_

A sigh gathered in the back of her throat and gusted between her lips.

She had a feeling she was going to get to know Sorano very well in the near future.

* * *

_Cuz I don't wanna be like this,  
I've been running these streets  
for too long now, I've got nothing,  
that's true, but this song now.  
But the further I go,  
I wanna go home._

~Hollywood Undead

* * *

**Hi! Thanks for reading, and please review! I would greatly appreciate it!**


	3. She Don't Want the World

**Hello! Wow, I was in such a slump for this story and then the chapter just decided to crank itself out today! I hope you like it. It gives some insight into how Anzu came about loving some of the characters. In fact, a majority of the following chapters are all going to follow this format. This one's main focus is Yugi, but the others are sure to come. Basically, you're getting plot and you get to read just what exactly Anzu is writing in that diary of hers.**

**Please, tell me what you think! Or if there's a line that stuck out to you, tell me! I like to know what strikes you as important or otherwise! Your opinions on different sections give me some insight as a writer as two where I'm going with these characters.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3: She Don't Want the World

_The open wound she hides  
She just keeps it bundled up  
And never lets it show  
She can't take much more of this  
But she can't let it go  
And that's ok, she don't want the world_

~3 Doors Down

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_The first time I fell in love I was in elementary school and didn't really know what love meant. All I knew was that Mouto Yugi was one of the nicest boys in class, he had an amazing technique on the swingset, and his lunch always had the best pudding cups._

_Back then, you could tell a lot about someone by their pudding cups._

_Of course, continuing to be my friend when all the other boys said he'd catch cooties was a big plus in his case, too. _

* * *

Sorano blinked at Anzu's request, brow shooting up in surprise. "You're sure you want to do this?"

Anzu nodded, expression firm and eyes determined. It had been just yesterday that she'd nearly been caught, and she'd decided that the quickest way to implement the change would be to come to school early this morning to speak with Sorano-the girl was infamous for being the first in class every morning-rather than walk with her friends like she usually did.

Sorano's gaze met hers for a handful of seconds before nodding, reclining back into her desk and closing her eyes. "Alright, then. Okay, so," Sorano peeked an eye open, lips curving up in a reluctant smile, "I suppose you'll be sitting with me at lunch today."

Anzu felt her shoulders sag, as though a weight had been lifted. She'd feared that Sorano wouldn't approve of her course of action, would call her a coward or accuse her of running away.

"Anzu," Sorano sighed, and Anzu realized she'd been speaking aloud, "there's a difference between running away and strategic retreat. Of which, you are doing the latter."

As Sorano finished her sentence people began entering the classroom, casting a few curious glances at the odd sight of perky Mazaki Anzu hovering in front of the desk of quiet Kyoko Sorano; who most avoided on principle thanks to her odd clothing choices.

Smirking, Sorano flashed gossipy onlookers a vicious grin, making them jump and turn away quickly. "I suggest you go sit in your seat. We wouldn't want to alarm the populace too much just yet, would we?"

Her broad smile having been automatically put in place at the appearance of others, Anzu nodded, and made her way to her seat.

Sorano watched her back as she went, an amused glint in her eyes. "What an interesting girl."

* * *

_For a long time, we were the best of friends. I trusted Yugi like I'd never trusted anyone. We did everything together. The park was our haven, and every day was an adventure. I'll never forget when I was seven, and we went on a grand exploration of Yugi's attic for lost treasure._

_We didn't find any lost treasure, but we did find something else. Yugi noticed a thin beam of light, from a small hole the ceiling. Looking at it, we thought it was just a hole to the outside. We shifted a box over for Yugi to stand on, so he could see through it. He'd reached up, pushing one little finger through the hole to get a grip and pull his face closer to see, only to gasp in amazement as a square patch in the ceiling gave way and swung down on rusted hinges from his pulling. _

_Like the excited little children we were, we were quick to climb through the square hatch. What we found was a room, square in shape, big enough for us to stand and still have four feet or so above our heads, and wide enough that we could easily stretch four of us across. Letting light into the room was a single window on the far side of the room; the only clue you'd ever have from the outside that the room was even there._

_Yugi and I kept this room a secret for the two of us. From then on, every time I stayed the night we'd sneak up there with sleeping bags, flashlights, and books of fairytales and adventure._

_We called it the Pavilion, though to be honest I don't think either of us knew what a pavilion even was. It sounded neat, and that was all that mattered. For years, Yugi and I snuck away to the Pavilion, until we entered middle school. It was then that I moved with my family, and when we returned a few years later Yugi and I had drifted apart. By then, high school had started and this entire mess with the Millennium Puzzle and other items began. We became close again, of course, but Yugi and I never revisited the Pavilion. He didn't say anything, and I never asked either. Perhaps because I was afraid he wouldn't agree to visit it._

_Part of me wonders if he still goes up there, sometimes. Or maybe he's shown it to someone else, by now. I admit, the thought makes me unhappy. It's Yugi's house…but my heart tells me that the Pavilion was _ours_. _

_Of course, he could have just forgotten it's there at all._

* * *

School began for the day. She greeted her friends, like normal. She laughed with them between classes, like normal. She smiled, like normal.

It was during lunch that everything began to change.

"Hey, guys?" she asked as the group began its trot towards the cafeteria.

"Yeah, Anzu?" Jou uncurled himself from his usual slouch to give her attention, hands remaining in his uniform pants pocket.

She slipped an apologetic smile onto her face. "I'm afraid I won't be able to sit with you guys today. A new friend of mine wants to spend some time getting to know each other better, and asked if I'd join her." Simple, easy, believable. "None of you mind, do you?"

"It's fine, Anzu," Yami said, smiling in her direction.

Bakura rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "Do what you want, Mazaki."

She shot one last questioning look at Yugi, who grinned cutely and said, "Go ahead Anzu, we'll be okay without you for the day." Other members of the group who had yet to speak murmured their agreement.

"Oh, okay then! Thanks," she laughed turning her face away where none could see it. Her mask, which had become progressively harder to force up, had slipped enough that her smile was strained on her lips.

How silly, that for a moment a part of her had hoped one of them might protest her leaving. She knew Yugi had said they'd be fine without her _for the day_, and that he hadn't said they didn't need her _period_…

But in the corner of her mind, she couldn't help drawing the comparison.

* * *

_Yugi was the one who gave me my interest in dance. It was a rainy day, I remember, and we'd decided to watch TV just for something to do. We were watching a ballet. I can't remember which one, as my memories constantly feud over whether it was _The Nutcracker_ or _Swan Lake_. _

_I hopped of Yugi's couch, proclaiming a need to dance like the pretty girls on the screen were. I did some twirls, a few clumsy pirouettes. From the couch, Yugi clapped for me._

_"Amazing! You look just like the girls on TV!" he'd said. It was his next line, however, that made me stop and think. "You look like you're having fun!"_

_I paused mid-twirl, repeating his sentence in my mind before smiling. "Yeah, I am."_

* * *

Anzu separated from the group upon entering the cafeteria with a small wave, looking about for her new lunch-mate. Sorano sat a circular table about five away from her usual, picking at her tray; a paperback book held open on the table before her.

Swiftly approaching the table, she pulled out her box lunch and placed it on the faux grain surface. She pulled the chair to Sorano's left out and seated herself. Murmuring under her breath, she opened her lunch's lid and helped herself.

"Welcome to the table," Sorano muttered, never looking up from her book. "I take it you had no issues getting here, then?"

"Not one," she answered, nibbling a strip of chicken. Her mind responded to Sorano's presence without prompting, dropping the forcefully serene expression she knew the other girl wouldn't put up with.

Finally lifting her gaze from her book, Sorano swept her eyes over Anzu's face. "This bothers you?" She didn't sound surprised.

Anzu shrugged. "Not really." When Sorano continued to stare, Anzu sighed, rolling her eyes and turning slightly away. "Okay, maybe it does, a little."

"A little," Sorano hummed, and said no more.

Anzu paused her eating, eyes fixated on the riceball held inches in front of her mouth. Sighing once more, silently this time, she set the foodstuff down and dropped her chin. "A lot."

Sorano's hand cupped the side of Anzu's face, lifting her head and turning it so they met eye to eye. "Tell me."

Anzu's lids fell, blocking her sight as she pressed herself into Sorano's palm. There was something about Sorano that reminded her eerily of a mother sometimes, like right now. Then there was the Sorano of yesterday, who watched movies and laughed that reminded her of close girl-friend or sister. She wondered how many other sides of Sorano there were that she'd get to see.

Half of Anzu didn't want to tell Sorano anything. This half insisted that Sorano didn't need to know what she was thinking. She hadn't cut, and that was all that mattered, right? Informing her of anything else was unnecessary.

Then the other half chimed in that yes, it was necessary. It didn't matter that she hadn't cut yesterday. She could gain the urge to cut today, or tomorrow, or who knew when. One battle didn't win a war. If talking to Sorano about things helped, then she would do it. If it helped her to get over _this_ (them_them__**them**_) she would do it. Hadn't she promised herself at least that? Anzu sighed eyes opening once more.

She didn't want to hurt anymore.

"I guess, I just kind of hoped that…," Anzu whispered.

"That they'd stop you?" Sorano finished. "That they'd ask you to stay?"

Anzu shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But…at the same time, I'm a little…relieved? That they didn't."

"Anzu," Sorano said, "there's something you're going to have to understand. With the situation you're in, there are always going to be two sides. Part of you will always want to hide everything, and the other part will want to share everything. Your job is to find a balance between the two that works for you. I don't expect you to, nor do I want you to tell me everything. There are just some aspects of this that you have to figure out for yourself. I can't give you all the answers."

"Why not?" she replied.

Sorano's lips twitched into a minute smile. "There are things that if I told you them right off, you'd never really understand what I was trying to tell you. These are things that only you can learn. Especially pertaining to them," Sorano's eyes flickered to the side, and Anzu knew exactly who she was talking about.

The bell rang then, and Sorano removed her hand from Anzu's face. "Do you understand, Anzu?"

She smiled, small, but genuine. "Yes."

* * *

_When we were little, Yugi used to call me a nickname. Zu-Zu. I can still hear him, every now and then._

_"Zu-Zu, come on!"_

_"Zu-Zu, that's silly!"_

_"You're so nice, Zu-Zu!"_

_Since I moved back to Domino, and Yugi and I drifted, he hasn't called me that._

_I miss it, sometimes._

* * *

Anzu met up with the group in the hallway back to class, automatic smile in place. "Hey guys, have a nice lunch?"

"Yeah," Jou groaned, rubbing a hand over his stomach. "Yum!"

A few chuckles and rolled eyes traversed the group. Ryou, ever polite, asked, "And your lunch, Anzu? I noticed," his tone because slightly curious, "that you were sitting with Kyoko Sorano?"

Anzu blinked, as suddenly everyone in the group seemed to be paying attention to her answer, even the ones she was certain were usually more tolerant of her than accepting (Marik, Bakura).

She stopped walking, the rest doing so as well with interested expressions. A picture of Sorano appeared in her mind's eye, and her masked slipped until only a real, barely there smile and shadowed eyes remained. Meeting the gaze of the person nearest her, she looked Yugi in the eyes without a mask to hide behind for the first time in a long time, and said, "Yeah, I think she and I will be seeing each other a whole lot more often now."

Then the mask returned, and she walked ahead of them.

* * *

_I had a nickname for Yugi, too. Yu-chan. My Yu-chan, specifically. There were times in our journeys that, while he was in the middle of a battle or about to face a challenge that I wanted to call him that. Just to see what he'd do. I miss being able to say it to him. I wonder if he misses it too? Does he ever wish I'd come up to him and say, "Good morning, Yu-chan!" like I wish he'd call me Zu-Zu?_

_Of course, it could just be something else that he might have forgotten._

* * *

_A brand new morning shines  
As she wakes up alone again  
This time to face the day  
She swears there's time to make it  
As she simply walks away  
And it's ok, she don't want the world_

~3 Doors Down

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Please review!**


	4. Playing God

***On her knees, humbled.* I am so sorry I took such a long absence. I honestly can say I didn't mean to. Please forgive me for my laziness. **

**Thanks to SmileRen for giving me the kick I needed to get back into gear for my stories. I appreciate it! This chapter is dedicated to you, hope it holds up to your expectations. **

**Please read and review!**

* * *

Chapter 4: Playing God

_Can't make my own decisions  
or make any with precision  
Well maybe you should tie me up  
so I don't go where you don't want me  
You say that I been changing,  
that I'm not just simply aging  
Yeah how could that be logical?  
Just keep on cramming ideas down my throat_

~Paramore

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_The second time I fell in love was just as this fiasco with magic began, when Ryou Bakura moved to our school._

_He was a very solitary boy, I remember. He was polite, smart, cute, and sweet. He had a swarm of fangirls, still does, but they never really got too close. I suspect they were afraid he'd bolt on them, he came off so shy. He was punctual as well, always on time to class. _

_Yes, he was so popular. So liked, and respected by his teachers._

_But so very, very lonely._

* * *

They were on Anzu's couch again, watching an old black and white movie.

"What's this called again?" she asked, glancing at Anzu from the corner of her eyes as she shifted the popcorn bowl in her lap.

"_The Most Dangerous Game_," Sorano replied, reaching into the bowl and popping a kernel between her lips. "It's based off a short story of the same name, by  
Richard Connell."

"And the one with the funny mustache is…?"

"Zaroff."

"He's the bad guy?"

"Yep." Sorano smirked slyly. "I expect you to start laughing soon. This was filmed in the 1930's, and the effects and dramatic close-ups are hilarious."

"It's seriously that old?" Anzu licked some butter from her index finger.

"Yep, and the story is somewhere around ten years older."

They sat in silence for a moment, which Sorano broke when the camera panned in on the leading lady's face. "Hey, Anzu?"

Anzu continued to watch the actress swoon. "Yeah?"

"I don't think you should sit with me tomorrow."

Anzu turned swiftly from the screen, a worried frown on her lips. "Why?"

Sorano leaned back into the cushions and sighed. "You've been at my table every day for three weeks. Surely you miss sitting with _them_, even a little?"

Anzu turned her gaze to the popcorn, fingers absently picking at a kernel. "I guess," she whispered, "but I just, I don't…"

Sorano's hand rested over her fidgeting fingers, squeezing gently. "I know you don't want to be hurt," she said, "but you have to understand, Anzu. You can't shut them out. Avoiding them like this won't help." Sorano dipped her head to meet Anzu's downturned eyes. "You haven't even walked to school with them in a week."

Anzu frowned bitterly. "Why does it matter? If I avoid them that's my business." Anzu pulled her hand from Sorano's. "Why should I have to be around them if it always _hurts_? At least I still hang out with them after school sometimes!"

Sorano cupped Anzu's face and smiled with sad eyes. "Anzu, you're shaking."

She was. Anzu took a deep, tremulous breath, and closed her eyes. "I don't want to hurt, Sorano."

Sorano brushed her thumbs soothingly over Anzu's cheeks. "I know, but it's only going to hurt more if you go on like this. Plus, it'll hurt them, too. Remember what I told you? It's about balance. You don't want to be around them so much that you're constantly hurting yourself, but you don't want to pull away so often that you start to regret being apart."

Opening her eyes sparsely, Anzu asked a familiar question. "Why?"

"You already know the answer to that."

She opened her eyes fully, and parted her lips in a slow, sad sigh. Of course she knew the answer. If she pulled away too much, she _would_ regret it. Because she loved them too much. Wasn't that what this was all about? The less she saw of them, she would only long for them _more_.

"Will you sit with me?" Anzu asked, gaze intent on Sorano. She felt cowardly asking, but the idea of having to sit with them, fighting her urge to flee to that familiar bathroom, shook her to her core.

Sorano's face was smooth and calm as she seemed to ponder Anzu's question. "Not at first," she answered slowly. "You have to get used to being with them in these settings alone, and if I hold your hand the whole time you won't be able to walk on your own. _But_," she added, seeing Anzu readying to protest, "I will join you halfway into lunch, if you want. I may want you to grow, but I won't abandon you."

Smiling a deep, tiny smile she'd recently learned was her real smile beneath the mask, Anzu nodded. "Thank you, Sorano."

Sorano huffed humorlessly, releasing Anzu's face to put her hands in her lap. "Please, if you wanted, you wouldn't even have to listen to a word I say."

Anzu reached over to twine her fingers with Sorano's. "But I do," she said.

Squeezing her hand, Sorano hummed lowly. "Yeah. Yeah, you do."

* * *

_He was a little like Yugi, I remember. When I'd first moved back, Yugi would sit alone at lunch as well. Ryou did the same, but he managed to do it while surrounded on all sides by adoring girls. _

_I never really talked to him at first. I thought he was cute, but I didn't focus on him much. He was lonely, but it seemed like a forced loneliness on his part. Like he _wanted _to be alone. Knowing what I know now, I can guess why he was like that._

_Not that others didn't try to enter his forced isolation. They did. Several times. And each time, he always answered with that same, polite smile and blank eyes. _

_"Sorry, I'm busy. Homework, you know?"_

_"I can't, I'm working on a project."_

_"Perhaps another time, I'm having company over tonight."_

_Lies. Each and every one. _

_But of course, I never said anything about it._

* * *

She hovered.

Breathing erratic, Anzu swayed in her spot ten feet away from the table. They hadn't noticed her yet, and her frantic mind was grateful for that.

Her stomach clenched with nerves, and she swayed her shoulders side to side. Cautiously, her foot lifted.

One step forward.

Her eyes flew to the table, and her throat clenched.

One step back.

Behind the mask of a shy smile, her teeth were clenched. In bashfully lowered eyes rest hidden unease.

One step forward.

Looking up once more, she caught Ryou's gaze.

One step back.

Ryou gestured her forward, which prompted the others at the table to turn.

"Hey, Anzu!" Jou waived an arm enthusiastically. "What-cha doin'? Come over here!"

Breathing in deeply, Anzu reestablished the mask's reinforcements as she walked forward, as though she hadn't been hovering moments before.

"Hey guys!" She pulled out the chair between Ryou and Jou.

"Where ya been, Anzu?" Jou nudged her shoulder.

She smiled. "I've been…here and there."

"With Kiyoko-san, correct?" Ryou smiled politely at her. "You two have been together quite a bit lately."

"Yeah…," she answered slowly."I guess."

"You haven't been hanging out with us after school as much, either," Yugi added. He frowned playfully. "Are we not good enough anymore Anzu?" he teased.

He heart clenched in her chest. The mere idea that he would believe such a thing made her voice leap from her lips, "No!"

He seemed taken aback at her loud protest, and she quickly backpedalled. "I mean, of course not!" She smiled widely and rubbed the back of her head with a sheepish air. "I've just been busy. Homework, you know?"

How odd that the lie tasted familiar on her tongue.

Beside her, Ryou's gaze became intense.

How unfortunate that the lie would sound familiar on his ears.

"That's okay, then," Yugi said, brow furrowed slightly.

They lapsed into familiar conversation. As she slowly entered into the familiar, yet somehow foreign, atmosphere of the table Anzu relaxed. She felt comfortable. More than she ever remembered feeling before.

She realized how much she'd missed this lately. How much she'd missed not only _them_, but Jou and Kaiba and Honda. Being back in the group, talking, she felt…

Marik leaned across the table and brushed his thumb tenderly beneath Ryou's eye, a smirk curling the corner of his lip.

She felt…

She wanted that. She wanted to be part of what they had. She wanted to be able to touch them affectionately, casually. She wanted to hold them, flirt and tease with them. She wanted it so much.

It wasn't hers to have. Her mind replayed the last time she'd cut, before Sorano came along. It wasn't her place to be a part of what they had. They had each other. It was already a feat of amazement that there was room for the six of them in each other's hearts, but a seventh?

Her hand travelled to her wrist, and she rubbed her lower arm through her sleeve.

She was damaged. She'd done this to herself. What would they say if they knew? Would they pity her? View her pathetic? Ignore her?

Her heart stuttered. She wouldn't be able to take it. If they ignored her, the already cracked pieces of herself would shatter.

She rubbed harder. What was _wrong_ with her? Why did she get so depressed so easily? Why was she so pathetic? Compared to what they'd been through, her plight was _nothing_. They'd all been through so much worse, overcome so much worse.

_So why was this so hard for her?_

The foundations of her mask trembled.

She wanted to run. She wanted to escape to her bathroom, pull out the scissors in her bag. She wanted—

"Hey Anzu, sorry I'm late."

A hand fell heavily on her should, the fingers squeezing reassuringly, as the table turned as one the girl standing behind Anzu.

Sorano smiled cheekily. "You don't mind if I join you, right?"

* * *

_It was pure coincidence that I found him there. I was running late for dance practice, and forgot my bag in the classroom. How was I supposed to know Ryou sometimes stayed late?_

_He was at his desk near the wall, close to the front. In his hands and on the desk were cards, but not ones she recognized from everyday use. These weren't the ones used to duel._

_He hadn't glanced up when I entered. I wondered if he was ignoring me, or if he was too engrossed in the cards. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, my curiosity got the better of me as I approached quietly from behind him. Getting a closer look, I realized what they were. My mouth opened without my permission._

"_Do you like the occult?"_

_Ryou stiffened immediately, his head jerking away from their vigilant stare at the cards in his hand. "Excuse me?"_

_"Do you like the occult?" I repeated. "I, uh, saw your cards there. Those are tarot cards, aren't they?"_

_Ryou hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."_

_I smiled shyly, pointing at a card in his hand. "What does that one mean?"_

_He looked at the card I'd indicated. "That's the Moon card. The cards are interpreted differently depending on their placement in a reading. Here," he lay the cards flat, "try this. Think of a question for the future, and pick a card. I'll tell you what it means."_

_Thinking for a moment, I decided on a fairly simple question. "What will my future be like?"_

_Drawing a card, I handed it to him without looking. As I watched, his expression shifted and changed. It went from calm but apprehensive, to pensive and curious. His eyes shifted between me and the card multiple times, and his head cocked inquisitively._

_"Well?" I asked. "What does the card say? What will my future be like?"_

_He hesitated to answer. "The card you picked is the Queen of Swords. Typically, in terms of the future, this card's meaning," he paused and met my eyes, "is 'difficult pain to make you stronger.' Or something along those lines."_

_I bit my lip, a sudden sense of dread crawling along my spine. "Oh."_

_He smiled politely as he set the card back down. "Yes," he murmured. "Oh."_

* * *

Sorano's question hung in the air. For a few, long seconds there was no answer.

Then Bakura, ever crass, said, "Why not? Pull up a chair, bitch."

Yami smacked the back of Bakura's head for the insult, and Sorano raised a brow at the term, but snagged an empty chair from a nearby table nonetheless. Squeezing between her and Jou, Sorano smiled at Anzu. "Sorry I took so long, Anzu."

Feeling her previous panic settled, Anzu's mask slipped a bit to smile a small, but deep smile at the other girl. "No problem, Sorano. Thanks for coming."

"It's nice to finally talk to you," Yugi said. "We see you in class all the time, but I don't think we've ever really spoken."

Sorano's expression was bemused. "We haven't."

"How do you know Anzu?" Malik asked, curiosity in his tone. "You don't exactly seem the matching pair."

Anzu stiffened, and Sorano grabbed her hand comfortingly under the table. "Well, it was just one of those gal meets gal stories. Hardly interesting." Sorano's smile was sharp.

Malik's lavender eyes narrowed slightly, renewed interest squirming in his expression as he dubiously replied, "I doubt that."

Sorano shrugged. "Believe what you like, Ishtar." She chuckled mirthlessly. "It's your choice."

Lunch continued, slightly tense, but an improvement over Anzu's previously panicked state. Sighing, Anzu traced a nail over the table. At least, she decided, the urge had gone away.

* * *

"_Well, how about you pick one now?"_

_Ryou raised a brow at me. "Pardon?"_

_I pushed my dread away and pointed at the cards. "You try now."_

_He hummed contemplatively. "Self divination isn't known to be very successful."_

_"Well then," I decided, "how about this?" I clasped my hands in front of me and closed my eyes, focusing carefully. "What will the future of Bakura Ryou be like?" I drew a card from the pile and handed it to him._

_He laughed as he took it, and I realized it was the first time I'd ever heard him do so. It was a nice sound. Eyes bright, he looked at the card. "The Hanged Man," he said, "you will discover strength within."_

* * *

Anzu was glad to be going home. She'd gone to the library with Sorano after school, needing a quiet place to regroup and work in peace. Now, she wanted nothing more than to curl up on her bed and sleep. Perhaps she'd write a little, too. For some reason, it seemed to comfort her more than she'd originally believed was possible.

The sun was setting as she approached her front door, searched her bag for her key. It took a few minutes of frantic searching for her to realize she'd forgotten it on her table this morning.

"Dammit," she mumbled, grasping for her phone, which she'd thankfully not forgotten. She sent a text to her mother, informing her of the situation. Three minutes later, she received a reply.

_I'm working late. Stay with a friend._

Anzu stared at the screen for a very long time.

* * *

_"See, that wasn't so bad!" I grinned._

_He nodded, his expression lit with good humor. "No, it wasn't." He glanced at the time, seeming to realize the lateness. "Sorry, looks like I need to leave."_

_I nodded understandingly. "That's fine."_

_He gathered his things and slung his bag over his shoulder, approaching the classroom entrance. Just before he left, he turned half around, hand lingering on the door frame. "Mazaki-san?"_

_"Just Anzu, please," I replied._

_He nodded. "Anzu-chan," he said, "thank you."_

_He smiled…_

* * *

"Mazaki?"

The bored voice made Anzu look up into the bored expression of Marik, the one who had spoken. Beside him, Malik looked on wonderingly.

"Hi Marik," she said. "Heading home?"

He nodded, and glanced at her hand clenching her cell phone tightly. "Heading inside?"

"I'm locked out, actually," she said, embarrassed. "I forgot my key inside this morning."

"Is someone going to let you in?" Malik asked, seeming to take more interest in the conversation.

Anzu looked to the side, unanswering.

"You could stay with us," Marik noted blandly. "It's just for the night, right?"

Anzu gaped, wide-eyed. "But, I mean, I couldn't just intrude."

Malik ignored her, turning to his yami. "That's a good idea," he said. I'm sure sis wouldn't mind." He and Marik began to walk away, stopping after a few feet. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he asked, "Aren't you coming, Anzu?"

Confused and disoriented, Anzu followed.

* * *

_…and for the second time in my life, I felt my heart beat for someone else._

* * *

_If God's the game that you're playing  
Well we must get more acquainted  
Because it has to be so lonely  
To be the only one who's holy  
It's just my humble opinion  
But it's one that I believe in  
You don't deserve a point of view  
If the only thing you see is you_

~Paramore

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review, and tell me what you think. I feel like this chapter was kind of rushed, but I'm not entirely sure. Feedback appreciated!**


	5. The Ballad of Mona Lisa

**Author's Note: Not even going to try giving excuses for my procrastination anymore. It just happens. Fandoms are discovered, and I have to work those out of my system sometimes, but I always come back to YGO. This story is NOT abandoned! I don't do that; it's not my schtick. Even if it's a while between chapters, they are being written. **

**Happy birthday to SmileRen! This one's for you, special. *winks***

**WARNING: Chapter is unbeta-d and un-Japan picked. So cultural issues and stuff that has been gratuitous throughout the story is unintentional, and will have to be excused. I am unrepentant. Also, there may be some stuff in here squicks, but it's nothing that hasn't been seen before in this fic.**

**((Do you people even read these things?))**

* * *

Chapter 5: The Ballad of Mona Lisa

_A lonely speaker in a conversation_

_Her words are swimming through his ears again_

_There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you paid for_

Panic! At the Disco

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_The third time was special._

_Not because of the who, mind you, though I'm sure it played a part._

_It's because of the how. It didn't happen in some grand way. It was actually pretty slow, and that's the crux of the matter. Because this time I recognized it as it came, knew its approach with the same familiarity that I might know my own face. And even though he'd scared me once, and at times still did, I let it happen._

_The third time I fell in love, I walked into it willingly for Marik._

* * *

"It's nice to see you again, Anzu."

Anzu glanced up from the carrots she'd been cutting into thin slices, smiling calmly for all that her stomach twisted with nerves. "It's nice to see you too, Ishizu. How have you been? How's the museum?"

Ishizu returned it with a quiet smile of her own, the expression striking Anzu with the subtle impression that Ishizu was expecting the question. Not for the first time Anzu wondered whether Ishizue was capable of some small future-sight without the Millenium Necklace. She'd almost have to, with the way she circumvented Malik and Marik's habit of causing mischief and handled the museum's affairs so effectively.

Ishizu sliced vegetables with swift, steady hands for a moment before answering. "I'm doing well. The boys haven't been quite as rambunctious as usual these last weeks." With a smooth movement she scooped the vegetables from the chopping board and intot eh nearby skillet. The smell of bell peppers, onion, broccoli, and mushroom wafting through the kitchen as they hissed and popped in hot oil amongst generously cut chunks of beef. "The museum is planning a new exhibit on Greece. You should consider coming when it's finished next month. Are you done with the carrots?"

"Hm? Oh." Anzu finished the carrot and passed her chopping board to Ishizu, who added them to the stir fry, stirring carefully to avoid splashing oil. "Anything else you need?"

Ishizu nodded. "Could you mix those for me?" She gestured to the counter, where a bowl, measuring cups, and various bottles and containers were strewn about.

"Sure." Anzu began measure out the soy sauce. "I appreciate you allowing me to stay. Again, I hope I'm not imposing."

"Not at all. It's not often the boys ask me for anything." There was a note of resigned acceptance in her tone.

Anzu felt her smile become more genuine. "They're pretty self-sufficient, aren't they?" she said, soft with understanding as she slipped into memories, motions slowing.

For a moment there was silence in the kitchen. Anzu came back into herself a moment later, shaking her head slowly. She waited for Ishizu to speak, glancing to her right when she didn't.

Ishizu had stopped stirring, and was watching Anzu with a blank expression and assessing eyes.

She stiffened, eyes darting back to her task, and slipping her smile firmly back into place. In a saccharine voice she asked, "Was it one-fourth or one-third a cup of hoisin sauce?"

"One-fourth," Ishizu answered. "Anzu-"

"Here you go!" Anzu handed her the completed mixture. "I'll set the table." She turned towards the cabinets, but Ishizu's hand appeared with a light but insistent grip on her right shoulder.

"Anzu-"

"Hey sis, is it done yet?" Malik peeked his head in throught he doorway, a playful quirk to his brow. "We can smell it out here, and I'm starving."

Anzu turned towards him as he spoke, her back to the counter. She flickered her gaze to Ishizu's hand, then her face, locking eyes as Malik hovered in the entrance.

Ishizu seemed to contemplate something deeply, her expression tight lipped, before her face smoothed out and she released Anzu's shoulder. She went back tot the skillet, stirring in the mixture Anzu had prepared. "Almost," she answered dryly. "Malik, set the table."

"What?" Malik whined.

Anzu sat herself mechanically at the table as the two siblings bickered good naturedly, forcing her expression into neutrality.

She didn't know what bullet she'd just dodged, but she was relieved she had.

* * *

_I was tired, I remember. But it was a good kind of tired. The tired that burns in your muscles and leaves you feeling light with accomplishment, despite the ache of hard work. _

_I was feeling particularly good that day. I had received praise from my dance instructor, and was starting to catch up to the other girls in my class. I was closing that gap of advantage that their reed-thin bodies gave them. For the first time in months, I felt confident in my dancing. _

_This feeling, the rush of being happy with my efforts, made me take a detour in my normal route home. I decided to take a slightly longer way home walking through the park. It may have been a bit chilly and cloudy, but I gave it no mind._

_The first thing I noticed was that there were children out playing despite the threat rain, drawn by the promise of play. _

_The second thing I noticed was the parents, mingling amongst each other or watching protectively from the sidelines._

_The third thing I noticed as I passed the area of the park housing the playground equipment was the young man sitting on a bench to my left, just off the path. _

_I hadn't expected to see him. I never did, outside of classes. But there he was._

* * *

She hadn't expected it to feel so awkward. She glanced around the table as the house's occupants were seated, noting off hand how much more relaxed Rishid appeared when he wore everyday clothes, though his expression remained as closed off and curiously blank as she ever remembered it being. Malik twittered light conversation from her left, the only one at the table that seemed capable of speech. He was answered with noncommittal grunts and quiet nods, but no attempt at verbal reply. As everyone began scooping portions onto their plates from the main stir fry dish, even he grew silent.

"Oh wow," Malik exclaimed. "This is really good."

"Anzu helped quite a bit," Ishizu quietly informed.

Malik nudged her with his shoulder, an easygoing grin tilting his lips. "I suppose I owe you my thanks-tonight we get to eat something that's actually edible!"

Ishizu rolled her eyes and gifted Malik a deadpan look, but didn't comment.

Anzu tried and failed to prevent a small blush from lining the top of her cheeks. Hesitantly, she let him see a tiny, grateful smile. "Thank you."

Across from her Marik caught her gaze, and he traced the contours of her face with something akin to curiosity hedging in dark lavender eyes. As easy conversation picked up around the table (so quaint and simple and totally unfamiliar to her usual lonely dinners for one) and dispersed the awkward atmosphere, Anzu looked away to her food, taking a bite of the first meal she'd helped someone make since she was a child and her mother was still interested in such things.

Funny, it tasted better than anything she could remember making in a long time.

* * *

_I considered pretending I hadn't noticed him. All I had to do was look away and continue on, and I could go about my day as though I'd never seen him._

_Biting my lip nervously, I did just that. I'm sure my posture was too stiff to be truly nonchalant, my steps too stilted to be natural. I breathed a sigh of relief as I passed him, but it was relatively short lived._

"_I won't bite, Mazaki."_

_I paused. Turning around, I released my lip and met a look of utter boredom. "Hi, Marik."_

_He tilted his head slowly, eyes half-lidded. "Mazaki," he greeted. He cocked his head at the spot next to him. "Are you going to run or sit?"_

_It was the hint of mocking in his tone that made me take the seat. It was challenging, assuming, and irked me to the core. He was surprised for only a second before seeming bored again. _

_We spent the next minutes in silence, during which he pulled a green lollipop from the recesses of his pocket and popped the treat in his mouth. He let the stick dangle between his lips, his hands slipping into the large pocket of a solid black hoodie. _

_It was a passing family, a child being scolded by his parents for some sort of irresponsible behavior, that I noticed Marik watching them as well, expression tight at the edges with envy._

"_Marik," I said against my better judgment, but sudden insight not letting me remain silent despite the nervous tension he created in me, "what's wrong?" When it seemed as though he wouldn't answer, I prepared to leave unobtrusively. _

"_Technically, I shouldn't exist." He said this with such matter-of-fact certainty that for a moment I was taken aback._

_He seemed to understand my shock. "I was not born," he explained in a moment of uncharacteristic helpfulness. "I was created."_

_Understanding flared through me, and I watched the retreating family with new interest. "So you've never had a family," I mused aloud. When he didn't respond, I looked to find his expression had become closed off. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"_

"_It's fine." He twirled the lollipop in his mouth, the white stick making circles in the air. "It's true."_

_I pondered to myself for a few moments, before noting, "Well, kind of." At his glance, I explained, "There's Ishizu and Rishid. They're kind of like family, right?"_

_He scoffed. "They've hated me since the day of my creation."_

"_I don't know about that." His disbelieving and condescending look made me bristle. "No, hear me out! Maybe at first, when you were all darkness and hatred and let's-destroy-the-world," he seemed to be growing more annoyed with each word I said, so I hastened my explanation, "but you're different now. Don't look at me like that, you are. If you weren't you wouldn't even be here talking to me right now." He grunted in reluctant acknowledgment. _

"_You may have been created from hatred and bad things," I continued, "but you're not anymore. Besides, if you hadn't been created then for all we know Malik, Ishizu and Rishid would still be stuck in those tunnels in Egypt. Overall, your creation was probably a good thing." I was surprised at the words coming out of my own mouth. He must think I sound ridiculous. Just as I was about to write off the things I'd said, he made a small 'tch' sound with his teeth._

"_Maybe you're right Mazaki," he said, and smirked._

* * *

"And you're certain it's alright with your parents?" Ishizu asked. "I just want to be sure."

Anzu pauses with her food halfway to her mouth, staring at Ishizu with unnerving blankness for the few seconds it takes her to process these words. She blinks, and the expression is gone. "Yes. Yes, it's fine. It was her-my mom's-suggestion, actually." She smiles, but does not continue eating.

"I see. And your father?"

She doesn't mean anything by it. Anzu knows she doesn't. She bites the inside of her cheek. "He isn't around," she replies.

An uncomfortable silence descends, and Anzu fidgets with her napkin. She doesn't want to think about her parents, or how much she misses them. How much she wishes her father would just tell her _why_, and that her mother would come home-even if only for one night. Anzu missed her so much…

"Please excuse me." Anzu stands, placing her napkin down gently. "I'll be right back."

She exit's the kitchen, goes through the living room and down the hall to the bathroom she'd been told on arrival is on the left. She closes the door behind her, and locks it firmly.

She leans on the sink with her hands gripping the edges of the counter, staring into the mirror of the medicine cabinet. She hated looking at herself. She couldn't deny what the mirror showed, because it did so unbiased. Whatever she saw was only, could only, be her. She only ever saw things she didn't like.

She watched her jaw clench, and examined her features. Was this why her mother never came home? So she wouldn't have to see the face of the man she hated in Anzu's? Anzu knew she and her mother were vastly different. Her mother's hair was black as pitch, her body thin in a way that contrasted with Anzu's own, curvier form. Her mother's eyes were also brown, a richness to them that made her entire visage glow when she was pleased. That was an expression she hadn't seen in a very long time.

Lifting a hand, she pulled down her lower eyelid experimentally, peering closer at the shape and color. There was no doubt that these were her father's eyes, that she was every inch her father's daughter.

Tasting bitterness, she threw the cabinet open, not caring for the contents, but no longer wanting to look at herself.

A pair of black handled hair cutting scissors sat on the small shelf in the middle.

For a few moments, Anzu didn't move. She didn't even breathe.

Then, before she could stop herself, make herself think about what she was doing and how stupid this was, she'd grabbed the scissors and sat down on the toilet lid.

* * *

_I don't know how long we sat on that bench. It wasn't for very long, fifteen minutes at most. But it was calm, relaxing. I enjoyed it, but I knew I had to get home._

_I stood without a word and nodded at Marik, resuming my trek home once more._

"_Mazaki."_

_I turned around, cocking my head in question. I caught the green lollipop he tossed on reflex, and laughed when I realized what it was._

"_See you around," he said._

_I nodded, smiling brightly. "Yeah, see you around."_

_And then I went home, and ate my lollipop._

* * *

She didn't have her uniform jacket on. She'd taken it off at the door, hanging it on the hook with her bag. It meant there was only one sleeve to roll up, one layer hiding her wrists.

With the open scissor blade pressed to skin, she didn't even have to think about how much pressure to apply. It was automatic. She just pressed down, harder at the pointed tip, and drew it swiftly across.

She winced. This hurt more than the razors. The scissors didn't cut as cleanly, and didn't break the skin entirely, blood only swelling up in a few places. Gritting her teeth against the nearly burning sensation the cut made, she lined the scissor blade up again and drew it along the same line. She did this until the entire line bled, her grip slipping off once or twice so that angry red lines marred the area around the jagged cut as well.

Then she switched wrists, and did the other one as well.

"Anzu?" There was a knock on the door.

She froze. Malik's voice drifted through again. "Anzu? Are you alright?"

Anzu looked down at her wrists, bleeding sluggishly and dripping onto her palms. The scissor blade was red along the top edge.

That was all it took for the shame to take hold.

"Anzu, are you alright?" He sounded more urgent at her silence, voice leaking a small hint of worry.

"Yeah," she answered brightly, as her shoulders shook and tears dripped down her cheeks. "I'm alright."

* * *

_I sat with him often after that. Every time I saw him on the bench after dance practice, I'd sit with him. He didn't always greet me, sucking on his green lollipops, but he'd acknowledge me somehow with a nod subtly shifting over to make room on the bench. Sometimes he noticed when I had a bad practice. Those days he'd let me talk at him. He never responded, but then again he didn't have to. He had a way of saying things without words. Not in his expression or his eyes, but in his silences. I got good at reading them, at knowing what he meant for each one._

_It happened slowly. I recognized the warm, fluttery ache in my chest and stomach from the moment it first appeared, and knew exactly what it would become if it continued like this unchecked, and the possible consequences._

_For some reason, I didn't care._

* * *

"You're sure?"

Anzu suppressed her shaking voice, answering back steadily, "Yeah, I'm sure."

She looked down at her wrists, and began cleaning them with toilet paper, trying to get them to clot quicker. They seemed to actively resist this, and continued to bleed at a slow but steady pace.

If she tried to go out now, she'd bleed right through her sleeves again. Panic settled in a harsh ball in her abdomen, and she quickly swept through her options. "Actually, Malik? I'm not feeling too well."

"Do you need something? I can get Ishizu-"

"No, just, could you call Sorano for me? My phone is in my bag."

He was very quiet for a few seconds. "Why?"

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Please Malik?" She hated the note of desperation that leaked into her voice. "Call and ask her to come. It's important."

"Will you come out?"

"No."

The silence that followed was frustrated, but she heard him leave. He was replaced quickly by Ishizu. "Anzu?"

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, exasperation and fear fighting for dominance, but losing out to the overwhelming self-hatred that she'd been reduced to such a pitiable state in Malik and Marik's bathroom. "Yes?"

"Is there anything I can do for you? Something that you couldn't explain to Malik?"

Anzu nearly chuckled. Of course it would seem like she was having _feminine_ problems. "No. It's…private. Please, I just really need Sorano right now."

"Malik's calling her," Ishizu replied, and she could hear the same mild frustration in her tone that her brother had just expressed. "Can I come in?"

"No." The answer comes out quick and harsh, and she can only wonder at the expression on Ishizu's face in the hush that follows.

"Alright," Ishizu says, and there is resignation now. "I'll let you know when she gets here."

She retreats, and Anzu is left alone. She washes the scissors with trembling fingers, drying and replacing them exactly as she left them. She nearly chokes when she sees the blood she's dripped on the floor and counter, and takes a steadying breath that does no real good before attempting to mop up her mess.

The time it takes Sorano to arrive is one of the longest periods Anzu has ever felt. She hopes that Sorano will understand the meaning behind the call, and she is relieved when the knock comes.

"Anzu? Sorano's here," Ishizu calls through the wood.

"Anzu," Sorano says. "You okay? Let me in."

Staying out of sight from the other side, she unlocks the knob and twists it open a crack, just enough so that Sorano can squeeze through before it is shut and locked once more.

For a few seconds she and Sorano stare at each other, sizing one another up.

"You relapsed," she whispers, and Anzu is grateful for the courtesy. It was all too possible that someone could be trying to listen in from the hallway.

"You're not wearing makeup," Anzu replies, and is glad when her voice only cracks a little bit.

Sorano nods, smiling with one side of her mouth. "You caught me while I was casual." She takes Anzu's hands gently in hers, observing the damage. "Was it bad?"

"I got blood on the floor."

Sorano's lips purse. "What did you use?"

"Scissors. Hair cutting ones."

"Not exactly the safest thing to use." The words are so contradictory, Anzu nearly laughs.

"I wasn't thinking very clearly," she chuckle-sobs, and clenches her hands into fists.

"What'd you clean up with?"

"Toilet paper." She gestures to the toilet, where several bloody balled pieces are bobbing in the water, staining the water a light pink.

Sorano flushes them down, then reaches into the pockets of her coat and takes out a small tube of antiseptic cream and gauze. She uses a bit of gauze to wipe away the fresh blood, then applies the cream and wraps them. She tucks the used bit back in the pocket, and rolls down Anzu's sleeves. "Those'll bleed through soon. You did a bit of a number on yourself this time. We'd best get you out of here."

"I can't go out there," Anzu whispered, cradling her arms to her chest, wrists visibly thicker from the gauze wraps under the thin shirt material. "Not like this."

Sorano sighs, fiddling with her fingers in thought, before coming to a decision and unzipping her coat. She takes the large thing off, revealing a short sleeved tee shirt. She really had caught the girl in a casual moment. Sorano hands the other girl her jacket, and Anzu slips it on while taking the chance to look over Sorano's arms. She silently admits to herself that there was a part of her that had _wondered_, but the smooth, unblemished, and ultimately _unscarred _expanse of skin proves her thoughts wrong.

As she zips the blue coat she detects the smell of male cologne and asks, "Who's is this?"

"My dad's," Sorano replies, glancing over the bathroom with a keen eye. "Looks like you didn't miss anything. Let's go."

Anzu nods, and as they exit the bathroom she finds herself watching the floor, her tears having dried up and too ashamed knowing that her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. She shoves her hands in the coat pockets, and let's her feet move her forward.

"We'll be going now." They've reached the living room, and Sorano is just in front her, a buffer against the stares she can physically feel being directed at her. "I'm taking Zu here back to my house."

She starts a little at the nickname, almost too close to her old one for comfort, and the quick glance she takes makes her pause. Her bag is on the coffee table, a few items strewn about from when Malik had obviously searched through it for her phone. Amongst them is _the _diary, _her diary, _and several green lollipops. Marik is sitting on the couch behind the table, sucking on a lollipop he had to have taken from the others. He is watching her with a quiet intensity.

"You're welcome back any time Anzu." Anzu turns to meet Ishizu's calm, assessing look, and has to look away again as the shame renews itself.

She nods. "Thank you," she says.

Malik scoops up her bag and hands it to her, swiping most of the miscellaneous items back inside. "You're sure you're alright?"

His sincerity makes her want to cry again, and she forces herself to hold it back. He really was such a good person, once he'd gotten the chance. Mischievous, true, but a good person nonetheless. She hoped that someday, when she wasn't so messed up and could look them all in the eye with honesty, that they could be friends. Even if it ripped her heart to shreds in the process.

"No," she wonders if he hears the weight behind her words, "but I will be."

"Oi," Marik monotones, "what's this?"

When she catches sight of the diary in Marik's hands, the diary that _he was starting to open_, she lurches forward and snatches it back, stuffing it into the safety of her bag. "It's nothing."

He was saying things without words again. While his expression never changed, there was an air of newfound interest brought on by her reaction as he scans her bag with his eyes. He rolls the lollipop stick between his fingers, the candy spinning in his mouth and clacking against his teeth.

Anzu and Sorano bid their farewell, snatching her jacket and shoes from the entrance as they depart. Anzu is left feeling that she had just poked a very large, very awake dragon.

* * *

_I knew it was stupid. I had no business falling for him. I knew the rumors. I knew he was already involved and I hated myself every moment for it even as I let it happen. _

_I adopted habits from our encounters. I noticed his penchant for lollipops. Usually green, which seemed to be his favorite, and sometimes blue or purple, but never red. I took to carrying a few around in my bag for him._

_Maybe it was for the best when the meetings ended. I stopped walking through the park when I stopped having dance classes. Mother didn't want to pay for something that my instructor informed her I was falling behind in. _

_In the wake of my dream being torn away, I couldn't bring myself to make that walk anymore. What was the point, when it would only serve to remind me that I had failed at the one thing I had wanted since I was child? That I wasn't good enough at ballet for my mother to have faith in me?_

_I considered going back, but he never said anything about it the times I saw him at school. It must not have mattered very much to him. _

_Still, there was a foolish part of me that made me keep carrying a few green lollipops in my bag. Just in case._

* * *

_He senses something, call it desperation_

_Another dollar, another day_

_And if she had the proper words to say, she would tell him_

_But she'd have nothing left to sell him_

~Panic! At the Disco

* * *

**Author's Note Mark Deux: Thanks for reading. I'm curious about how this one turned out. It was more meticulously planned than usual. (I actually have only the vaguest idea of where this is going, and let the characters kind of lead me around on a leash. The ultimate outcome and a few elements are clear, but everything else turns out to be a surprise. I'm just letting Anzu tell me what happens.) Some things even surprised me! I'd always known she would relapse, so that wasn't too bad, but Marik definitely threw me for a loop. **

**Oh, and the lollipops are green apple, for those who wondered. My head says that the Marik in this story likes to crunch them once he's sucked them to the point that the edges get sharp. And he hates the red ones. Artificial cherry/strawberry/watermelon/other red flavors just don't appeal to him for some reason. But he's okay with blue raspberry and grape on occasion. **

**(Personally, I think he's crazy. Blue raspberry is amazing.)**

**Drop a review, please! I'd greatly appreciate it. It helps me do better at things and makes my face all warm and tingly. (Or is that my heart?)**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY SMILEREN!**


End file.
